Home from the adventure

I went to Connecticut for two weeks. It was the third such trip I've made since I had my stroke. I've gotten pretty good at getting to and from the airport, navigating once I'm there, and getting to my final destination.

Congratulations again, Chris and Ajza. That's the reason I went to Connecticut this time.

Chris, now theres a chip off the old block. He'll try anything once ... eating bugs and worms, stinging himself on the arm with multiple critters to see which hurt worst. We won't even mention his four year stint in the Marines. I'm glad he lived through it long enough to settle down and get married, even if he is still crazy.

I remember the first time I flew on an airplane after my stroke. I was scared to death. It seems as though the first time I was doing anything new, post stroke, it was like doing it for the first time. There is a difference in my psyche. I used to have no concept of fear. Hang gliding, bungee jumping, motorcycle riding, an adrenalin junkie ... that's how I used to live. Perhaps that's why was married three times.

I've decided that the most significant aspect of my stroke, psychologically, is that I now know what fear is. I've developed this ability to be afraid of things. In most modern situations, except for the most extreme, like being robbed at gun point, falling off a cliff, or having somebody try to run you down with their car, fear is pretty useless. That is, unless it can be positively channeld.

I watched my daughter break her arm in an accident. A while later, she broke her big toe in another accident. my son split open his four head one Halloween evening. Things like that happened. The instant clear mind, the ability to raise a sense of humor in the midst of disaster, basically the effects of adrenaline can be useful. I'm not against adrenaline -- just fear, which is debilitating.

Here is my message to you. Raising the adrenaline level is okay. Channeling that adrenaline, with a clear mind, is okay. Fear, however, is relatively useless. My kids haven't died from climbing trees and falling out. I haven't died, yet, for many of the crazy things I've done. Would we as a family have done is live every minute of every day, and know what it means to be alive. Now I have a new appreciation for that.

I think I'll give up fear for Lent.

The first days

I was in Brandon Regional Hospital for the first week or so, where I was rushed by ambulance that Sunday afternoon. The hospital staff's objective in their was just to keep me alive. My kids tell me it was touch and go those first few days.

Thoughts, images, memories float in and out of my head like short movie clips, but not a whole day; nothing durable, concrete, that I can latch onto and say I remember. I can remember a few incidents, but that's all.

My first solid memories are of my rehabilitation at Tampa General Hospital, where I spent over a month. they took me by ambulance. I remember my youngest daughter, Kelly, riding next to me. My oldest, Kimberly, followed us over in the car. I don't remember much about my arrival. But much of my time there is indelibly etched into my mind.

Every day was a great day. It was probably all the drugs they had me on. At home, now, I take 11 pills every day. In the hospital, I'm sure it was even more. I was so drugged up that I had no time to be depressed. In retrospect, I can see how people become addicted to drugs.

It couldn't happen to a nicer guy!

It was about 10 AM, Sunday September 14, 2008.

I got up, showered, shaved, and got ready for the weekly pilgrimage to my mothers house. She was in her 80s. I did a couple of odds and ends around the house, and took her to lunch every Sunday. Well, most Sundays anyhow.

Here's the timeline of what happened next:

11:00 AM. I take off in the car. The drive is about a half an hour.

11:05 AM. Get on the highway. Call Arnie -- a Sunday ritual.

11:06 AM. Notice the right eye is bothering me. It's like a dark spot. Decide if the contacts.

11:07 AM. Reminder: make appointment to see optometrist on Monday.

11:15 AM. Call Adam. I still believe you me. But, don't say anything.

11:30 AM. Arrive at mothers. Say hi. Do odds and ends around the house.

11:50 AM. Head to lunch -- Bob Evans restaurant. Standard Sunday drinking lunch!

12:01 PM. My right eye is still bugging me! However, I read the menu just fine.

12:45 PM. Finish lunch, chitchat, take mom home.

12:55 PM. Call wife, tell her I'm on the way.

01:03 PM. Call back Arnie.

01:45 PM. Arrive home.

01:50 PM. Kiss wife, go upstairs to work for about 30 minutes.

01:51 PM. See letters on a computer screen, but they make absolutely no sense.

01:52 PM. Go downstairs. Complaints of life. I have no idea what's wrong with me. But I feel fine.

01:53 PM. Wife insists I lay down on the couch. I think it's stupid, but comply.

02:15 PM. Ambulance arrives! Ambulance paramedics do all sorts of stuff.

02:30 PM. Ambulance rushes me to hospital. Seemed fine on the way there.

Sometime? Arrive at hospital. I remember arms and legs still work. I remember getting there. I remember being wheeled out of the ambulance. Black out. Something steps in my head. consciousness turns off as somebody threw a light switch. It's a couple of days before I regained consciousness and realize what's going on.

In the space of 5 hours I went from thriving, energetic business and family man to blithering, paralyzed, incontinent the vegetable, on the verge of death.

I went from nearly dead, paralyzed, nearly mindless person to a man who couldn't see out of the right side, useless arm in a sling, wheelchair riding semi vegetable in the space of a couple of months.

Truthfully, it was one of the best things that ever happened to me! Sounds weird? You will see why.